Decisions
by erindarroch
Summary: Okay, so...this is just a brief and fluffy (okay, 17k-word and not very fluffy) fic featuring one of our favourite tropes. Rated for mature content and language. H/L forever. There will never be any Disney canon here. Co-authored with Justine Graham. Special thanks to JennyCBS for beta reading, helpful comments, and general encouragement!
1. Chapter 1

**Decisions**

By Erin Darroch and Justine Graham

Part 1:

With fingers stiff and numb from the chilly air swirling inside her private quarters, Leia Organa finally finished weaving the last plait in the loose braid she had drawn over one shoulder, and secured it with a practiced twist of an elastiband. Then, blowing into her cupped hands for warmth, she exited the tiny fresher and hurried over to her bunk, keen to escape the biting cold and settle in for the night.

It was only their third day on Hoth, but already she bitterly regretted having cast her vote in favour of the move to this frozen wasteland of a planet. Advance scouting parties had warned that Hoth was cold—in fact, it was bordering on uninhabitable—but the planet's remote position in the Outer Rim far away from the Empire's arsenal of roaming probe droids made its location a highly desirable one nevertheless.

Leia hadn't worried overmuch about the personal impact of Hoth's hostile climate; she was well-travelled and long accustomed to swiftly adjusting to unfamiliar circumstances. By the age of twelve, she had already accompanied one or both of her parents to more far-flung worlds than the average galactic denizen would ever visit in a lifetime, and she had experienced extreme cold many times before—but Hoth's bone-chilling climate was something altogether more intense. The atmosphere here was nothing like her treasured memories of childhood treks to the Triplehorn mountains of Alderaan. There, it was merely cold enough for her icy breath to hang in the frigid air; here, it stole the breath from her lungs entirely. Even within the confines of the newly erected prefab officers' quarters, the environmental controls were struggling to maintain a climate tolerable to the average humanoid.

After fastening the neck of her thermal underlayer as far up as it would go, Leia powered up the spot-heater over her bunk, tapped down the lights and crawled in. She was in the process of burrowing into the relative warmth of her alcomase-lined sleep sack when she was startled by a crackling squawk from the direction of her chamber's metal hatch. It took a moment for her to realise that the atonal electronic squelch must have been the sound of a faulty door chime, presumably signalling the arrival of a visitor.

She shot a glance at the recessed shelf next to her bunk, where the chrono-comm she'd removed from her wrist still glowed with the local time. It was very late—certainly too late for casual guests to drop by. She frowned and let her head sink back into the pillow anyway, feeling deeply reluctant to stir from her rapidly warming cocoon. Perhaps the chime at the door had been a mistake, she mused hopefully—like the mistake she'd made in advocating for a base on this wretched iceball to begin with.

The comms panel gave another anaemic squeak, and Leia let out a groan. Reluctantly, she reached up to tap the embedded light controls, then wriggled out of the quilted sack and sat upright with a resigned sigh. Her knee-high snow boots were within easy reach, but she fervently hoped that the interruption—whatever its cause—would be brief enough not to require them. Having finally forced herself to retire for the evening, the last thing she wanted was to get dressed again in full winter gear. Foregoing any shoes at all, she stood and padded across the thinly carpeted chamber on stockinged feet. Palming the controls next to the frost-rimed hatch, she then stepped back with a start, allowing her gaze to drift slowly upward as she confronted her late-night caller.

Han Solo stood at the threshold, a look of cautiously hopeful anticipation on his face and a bundle of what appeared to be thermal blankets clasped to his chest. Leia noted with a slight frown that he seemed to have braved the long footslog through the frozen corridors clad only in his navy flight jacket. His shoulders were hunched against the chill and his lips had taken on a slightly bluish tinge, making him look even colder than Leia felt. She let her eyes roam from his tense features down to the stack of bedding in his arms and back up again. Then, folding her arms across her chest, she cocked her head to one side and arched an eyebrow.

"It's sweet of you to bring me more blankets, Captain," she said. "But my sleep sack is quite warm enough already, thank you."

It was a lie, of course—there was no such thing as_ warm enough_ on Hoth—but she knew at a glance what Han must be seeking at her door, and she needed time to think. Surprise at his boldness was uppermost in her mind, but she was also immediately and intensely aware of deeper currents that stirred within her at the sight of him. A sudden flood of memories from their last few nights together on Bettel IX sent her thoughts caroming off in a thousand thrilling and bewildering directions all at once. With some effort, she kept her features composed and maintained her relaxed posture.

Han hefted the pile of textiles a little higher in his arms and gave her a wry half smile.

"Warm enough, huh? Must be nice," he said. "I don't even remember what 'warm' feels like. The _Falcon_'s primary environmental regulator went on the fritz a few hours ago, and we haven't been able to get it back online, even with Luke helping out."

Leia pursed her lips and gave a nod of acknowledgement. A malfunction of that sort had been her first guess. Given the climate—and knowing the general condition of her Corellian friend's ancient freighter—it was no surprise to hear that the _Falcon_'s systems were having difficulties. Many ships of the fleet were likewise struggling to adjust, and attending to those concerns had taken up a good portion of her time since their arrival on the planet.

"It got worse after nightfall," Han continued, his eyes warily scanning Leia's face as he began to make his case. "I didn't think it was possible, but temps in the hangar are even lower than they are here. Even Chewie was having some trouble holding tools."

"We underestimated the impact of the cold and humidity on older ships," Leia replied.

Although she maintained an even tone of voice, she was acutely aware of the erratic thumping of her heart and she was finding it difficult to focus on the details of the conversation at hand, assailed as she was by memories of their recent wine-fuelled farewell to their last base—the smiling, exploratory kisses they'd shared atop the _Falcon_ in those final, quiet hours under the Bettelian stars; the easy camaraderie between them that night, and the warm laughter. She gave her head a little twitch to dispel the phantom sensation of Han's lips moving softly against her own, and brought her focus back to the man himself. "We're still working on adding some insulation there, as well as installing dampeners on all the hangarside environmental regulators," she continued coolly. "And Carlist tells me that Intel has a line on a few hundred portable heaters."

As she spoke, she kept her attention fixed on Han's eyes, fighting the urge to let her gaze drop down to his lips. She'd spent the last few days trying very hard not to think about those lips at all, although memories of their warmth and texture, and of the intense pleasure she'd felt in kissing him, kept intruding into her consciousness at the most inopportune moments. She was _supposed _to be focused on important matters pertaining to the relocation of their Alliance cell, and assisting with the ongoing preparations here at Echo Base—_not_ mooning over the roguish Corellian pilot. She simply couldn't afford to indulge in fantasies about Han...or his lips...or how good it would feel to let him trail his mouth heatedly over her skin, placing those wandering kisses wherever he wished….

She lost the battle for self-control, but managed to disguise her stolen glimpse by closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, she fixed her gaze resolutely on Han's hazel eyes once more.

"That'll help," he nodded, seeming oblivious to Leia's inner struggle. "But it doesn't do us any good tonight." He adjusted his grip on the bundle of blankets and gave her an imploring look. "It's too late to keep workin' anyway. Dawn is in less than five hours, so we just decided to pack it in and call it a night and, uh..."

Although he hadn't yet put his request into words, it was obvious what Han was angling for, standing in the frozen corridor, shifting uncomfortably on the thick layer of ice beneath his booted feet. To Leia's chagrin, she found she could not suppress the flutter in her stomach; however, she _could_ school her features. Keeping her expression perfectly impassive, she craned her neck to look beyond his tall frame into the narrow, icy corridor beyond. Feeble light flickered weakly from the fixtures embedded in the solid ice overhead, illuminating the corridor enough to confirm that the path to her quarters was, mercifully, deserted. She looked back up at her visitor, and tilted her head quizzically to one side.

"Luke told me earlier that poor Hobbie's out of commission in the medbay with a nasty rhinovirus," she pointed out. "That must mean there's an empty bunk in the Rogues' quarters."

Han's brows quirked upward. "Yeah, he said there was."

"So, why didn't you go there?"

"Wrestled Chewie for it and lost," he quipped, and gave her a wink.

Leia snorted a quiet laugh despite herself. "Sure you did."

Han cracked a grin. "Hey. There's only _one _bunk free in those barracks, and there's no way I'm gonna go poking around in all the rest, hunting for another empty bed at this hour. That's a dangerous proposition, Sweetheart; you never know what could happen. Might wake up a grumpy Verpine and get my head bitten off—literally."

She suppressed the smile that tugged at one corner of her mouth. "Still, that doesn't explain what you're doing at _my_ door, Captain."

A shadow flickered over Han's features then, and his cocky self-confidence seemed to waver for a beat, as if he couldn't quite determine if Leia was being playful or serious. Although she managed to keep her expression mostly neutral, she had to fight the urge to laugh at his obvious consternation. She was also suddenly conscious of the fact that, despite her best intentions to the contrary, they had somehow sailed straight back into the middle of the flirtatious game they'd been playing with each other for the past couple of months. In the flushed aftermath of that decidedly romantic night atop his ship—and having reminded herself of the futility of pursuing a relationship with a man who refused commitment to anything other than his own independence—she had resolved once more to curtail their increasingly intimate exchanges, beginning just as soon as they relocated to Hoth.

And yet, here they were.

Privately, she had to admit that she greatly enjoyed spending time with Han and she was loath to give that up, even if relinquishing such pleasure was objectively the most sensible thing to do. The charismatic smuggler challenged and stimulated her in more ways than one, and moreover, she _liked _him. Somewhat to her surprise, she had discovered that she could be completely herself around Han—even on the worst days, when her abiding grief and the weight of worry, responsibility and loss seemed too much to bear. His amiable company had become a refuge of sorts, a haven where she could drop the exhausting pretense of perfect poise for a while, rest, and freely speak her mind. Plus, she found sparring with him to be energizing and diverting in ways she'd never considered necessary before, but now couldn't imagine her life without.

Putting Han off his stride was never easy, though, so she took a moment to relish the small victory she'd won by pretending not to understand why he'd come to her for sanctuary. But he could never be fooled for long and, as quickly as it had arrived, his moment of doubt passed. Pulling his shoulders back, he jutted his jaw at her in mock belligerence.

"Hey, after all the nights you've crashed on the_ Falcon_? You owe me one, Princess."

"_Hmm_," Leia responded noncommittally, fighting to maintain her cool composure in the face of Han's implicit proposal. _He wanted to spend the night. Here. With her, in the solitude of her private chamber. _

Fleetingly, she wondered if her reaction would have been any different if it had been Luke or Chewie standing frozen and beseeching at her door instead. Somehow she doubted she would have kept either of the other two waiting out in the cold for so long, nor would she have questioned their motives in the slightest. Indeed, she would have hastened to invite either one of them into the relative warmth of her quarters, with no thought for anything other than their comfort and security. It seemed only the rangy Corellian had the power to provoke thoughts of a different nature—which, she had to admit, said more about her own state of mind than anything else.

Watching now as he hunched his shoulders and clutched his parcel of blankets a little closer, Leia gave herself a mental shake. Whatever else Han was to her, he was also a treasured friend. He'd guarded her back for two years, and saved her life many times over—and anyway it certainly wouldn't be the first time they'd slept in the same space, would it? Many shared missions under far more arduous circumstances had seen to that. On a rational level, she could fully understand his preference to bunk with a trusted friend, and it was true—she had sought the refuge of the _Falcon _many times over the course of the past couple of years, and he had never once turned her away. Moreover, he had never questioned _her _motives when she appeared aboard his ship unannounced, seeking companionship and comfort….

Han gave a little cough, dragging Leia's thoughts back to the moment. "Look," he said, "I'm only trying to find a warm place to hunker down for what's left of the night, preferably with someone I know won't put a vibroblade in my back."

Leia gave a short laugh. "And you're pretty sure I won't?"

"Hey, as long as it's warm, I'm willing to chance it. C'mon, Your Worship," he cajoled, then drew a deep breath and exhaled it in a frosty plume for effect. "See? It's freezin' out here."

Observing as Han pointedly blew out a few more puffs of air, Leia was gripped once more by memories of what it was like to be the sole focus of this man's ardent attention—to feel his long, strong fingers stroking the nape of her neck as he gazed into her eyes, to give herself up to his heated and wholly intoxicating kisses. It had been just a few standard days since that last intimate evening atop the _Falcon_, and only the urgent business of relocation had kept her from replaying the interlude on a continuous mental loop. Every time those memories resurfaced she felt a swift and giddy rush, like taking the top of a rise too fast before plunging down the other side. Although she had maintained a calm exterior so far in this conversation, inside she was a roiling tumult of thoughts and emotions. Uppermost in her mind was the question of what would happen if she and Han were alone again—this time for hours, in her private quarters, and with only one bed to share between them.

_Get a grip, Organa. You are a fool if you think you can do this._

She had stalled for as long as possible in an effort to give her brain a chance to weigh up the consequences of every option, but now time was running out and their protracted exchange was in danger of becoming truly awkward. Delicately, she cleared her throat.

"So, you're just looking for a place to _sleep_," she emphasised the last word, cocking one eyebrow in oblique enquiry.

Han's forehead crinkled and he opened his mouth to reply, but then stopped short and closed it again as his gaze sharpened on Leia's face. She saw his head tilt slightly backward as understanding gradually dawned. He studied her for a moment longer, while she fervently hoped that the hot flush suffusing her face and throat wasn't as obvious as it felt. He seemed both surprised and mildly disconcerted by the intimations of her remark, but she stood her ground, believing it important to clarify the matter before she invited him in.

After a long and weighty silence, he finally gave a slow nod. "That's right," he said solemnly. "No funny business, Princess, I promise," he added, uncharacteristically forgoing the opportunity to tease her. "I'll bunk on the floor, if you want. Still bound to be warmer than the hangar."

Leia held his gaze for a moment longer. She knew it wasn't an easy thing for him to do, asking for help. Indeed, she took it as a measure of their close friendship that he felt comfortable enough to request such a thing of her.

Seeing her waver in his direction, Han tried an encouraging waggle of his eyebrows along with his most charming smile, and Leia finally cracked. Releasing her pent-up breath, she chuckled softly at his transparent—and yet highly effective—non-verbal attempts to persuade her. After casting a final, furtive glance into the frozen corridor, she stepped back and angled her body to the side to allow him to pass, extending one arm out towards her bunk in invitation. Flashing her a look of relief and gratitude, he crossed the threshold, brushing lightly against her as he stepped into the tiny room.

Turning back to palm the hatch controls, Leia was just in time to see a pair of duty sentries advancing from the tight turn at the end of the corridor. She caught the glance they exchanged between them and felt another warm flush rise to her cheeks. Had they seen Han enter? For an instant, she worried about how it must look—the last Princess of Alderaan admitting the roguishly handsome Corellian smuggler into her quarters in the dead of night. But she quickly quelled the concern, telling herself fiercely that whomever she chose to keep company with, and whatever the place or hour she chose to keep it, was no one's business but her own. Acting as if there was nothing at all extraordinary about the situation, Leia gave the patrols a polite nod of acknowledgement, activated the door control and then turned around to face her guest.

Having leaned down to place his stack of blankets on the foot of Leia's bunk, Han straightened now to his full height as he swivelled back in Leia's direction and began shrugging out of his flight jacket.

"Not bad," he commented as he tossed the garment over the hoverstool that rested on dormant repulsors in front of Leia's tiny workstation. He gestured with his chin at the rumpled bed. "Better than I expected anyway. You could fit a couple of Gungans in there."

Leia pursed her lips, considering. Her private chamber was of the standard size allocated to officers for single occupancy, and the bunk's proportions were no more generous than any others in the unit. By necessity the vast majority of the standard military gear procured by the Alliance was designed to accommodate a wide variety of humanoid species, most of which never reached a height greater than two meters. The bed was plenty roomy enough for Leia, and Han was right—it would easily fit a humanoid much taller than either of them. But it wasn't a very _deep_ space, and she doubted very much his assertion that two Gungans could fit into it with any room to spare.

_Two humans of more-or-less average sizes, though? _

She shifted her eyes from Han's face to the bunk and then back again, biting the inside of her cheek as the faint flutter in her stomach revived and grew stronger.

She_ had_ made herself clear, hadn't she? Moreover, she was certain that Han had understood her—and even assured her of his innocent intentions. And yet she felt a sudden spike of doubt about the wisdom of the whole endeavour. It would be so easy to let her guard down with this man, to tumble with him into that bunk and generate some welcome heat between them, to take some joy and pleasure in physical communion, if nothing else. She'd certainly thought about that scenario more than once in the past few months, and she had no doubt that Han entertained similar ideas. He _wanted_ her and she wanted him—there was no denying that now, after those quiet hours under the starry sky of Bettel IX. Moreover, she no longer expended much energy in trying to pretend otherwise, at least in the privacy of her own thoughts.

But desiring someone and acting on that desire were two very different matters, and Leia had always been firmly self-disciplined in that regard. For myriad pragmatic reasons, she had never been inclined to indulge in sexual relationships of a casual nature, and Han had made it clear that he didn't plan to stick around, so it seemed that they were at an impasse. Close friendship, powerful attraction and passionate kisses notwithstanding, there was simply no future in it, and Leia never allowed herself to forget that.

"Having second thoughts, Princess?"

Leia blinked and re-focused her attention. Although the temperature in the cabin was far from balmy, it was a vast improvement over the damp chill of the frozen corridor, and now a trace of colour was starting to creep back into Han's face. His expression, too, had warmed and his darkly twinkling eyes tracked Leia's movements as she finally moved away from the hatch and advanced the few steps to the bunk to stand at his side. He gazed down at her with a look of unguarded affection—and then he gave her a smile that crinkled his eyes and showed a flash of teeth against the natural bronze of his skin. Leia's stomach did a somersault, and the first quiver of true panic lanced through her.

_Oh, Goddess. What was I thinking? _

Had she just foolishly opened the door to something that could quickly spiral out of control? And how would she respond if it did? Looking up at Han now, she wasn't sure she possessed the strength of will or the mental clarity to remember her many good reasons for resisting a more intimate relationship with him in the first place. Not as long as he was looking like _that_, and certainly not with him sleeping beside her in the narrow bunk. Wrapping her arms around her midsection, she gave herself a little squeeze, distractedly hoping her involuntary shiver would look like a reaction to the frigid air.

But Han wasn't fooled. His expression softened, turning tender as he gazed down at her. "Hey, listen, Sweetheart. I didn't realise—I mean, I didn't even_ think_—" He cut himself short and let his gaze roam around the small chamber for a moment, looking slightly at a loss.

Leia bit her lip. _Stop acting like a teenager on a first date, _she directed herself sternly. _You're an adult. You can handle this. It's no big deal_.

Han drew in a deep breath, then blew it out in a rush as he returned his gaze to Leia. "Okay, look, on second thought, I'll just go find Chewie and get him to trade places with me—" He turned away as if to reach for his jacket, but halted and angled a questioning look down at Leia when she placed a forestalling hand on his arm.

"No, don't go," she said, a sense of shock jolting her off-guard even as she heard herself say the words. Her heart seemed to be trying to beat its way out of her chest, and her breaths were coming short.

_What are you doing, Organa? This is not a smart decision. _

Resolutely, she blocked the strident advice of her more rational self and continued the headlong plunge into unknown territory. "I mean...that _is _a tempting offer. With all that fur, I'm sure Chewie would make for a much warmer bunkmate."

"I dunno, Princess. I'm kinda hot, you know." Han gave her a playful wink that effectively negated the conceit of his words. "Plus I don't shed, and I definitely smell better."

Leia wrinkled her nose, relieved at the opportunity to retreat into friendly banter. It was at least more familiar territory in which she didn't feel so terribly out of her depth.

"I don't know about that," she replied with a sniff, folding her arms."Something tells me you've been crawling around the guts of the _Falcon _all day."

"Yeah," Han shrugged, gesturing toward the bundle he'd dropped atop the bunk. "I brought a change of clothes and something to sleep in. I was hoping I'd be able to use your fresher."

Leia's heart beat a solid thump against her ribs. As if the lingering memories from their last evening together weren't enough to melt her from the inside, the mental image of Han Solo naked in her shower sent a new wave of heat coursing through her veins, leaving her flushed and feverishly warm all over, despite the chill. Calling upon her best regal bearing, she arranged her features into an expression of casual nonchalance and waved a hand in the direction of the fresher.

"Of course," she said, pleased to hear that her tone sounded gracious and perfectly cool.

Han murmured his thanks and then, after retrieving some items from amid the stack of blankets, disappeared into the adjoining fresher. Leia exhaled in relief, then turned her attention to making a few necessary adjustments to the bunk. After positioning her sleep sack as far toward the blind side of the bunk as she could, she lowered the lights a little and then crawled inside to await Han's return. Settling on her back and lacing her fingers over her abdomen, she listened to the high-frequency drone of the sonic shower in the fresher as she focused on drawing slow, deep breaths, hoping to calm the nervous racing of her pulse.

_I can do this_, Leia assured herself, silently repeating the phrase in a soothing mantra. _I can do this. It's fine. _


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2:

She had just managed to wrestle her thoughts into some semblance of orderly submission when she heard the sound of the shower powering down and, a few minutes later, the soft hiss of the fresher door. Glancing over, she felt her resolve instantly crumble.

_No. Oh no. _

Han emerged from the unit wearing a full set of thermals much like Leia's own—drab grey and nondescript, but made of thick, soft material that was designed to be warm, part of the bundle of standard gear that had been issued to all personnel in advance of the move to Hoth. Although the insulating fabric covered every centim of skin from his throat to his ankles, the way it clung to Han's tall, muscled frame revealed more about his physique than anything else Leia had ever seen him wear. His exposed skin was rosy, aglow from the pulsing waves of the shower, and his hair was in wild disarray, with tousled strands sticking up in every direction atop his head. Leia's mouth went dry on a flash of sudden heat and she felt her pulse quicken once more.

_Oh, Goddess, I take it back. I can't do this. _

As he stepped toward the bunk, Leia had to force herself not to stare. She didn't know where to look, but neither could she bring herself to look away and—to her consternation—she found that watching him move in her direction provoked in her a startling and very powerful physical response.

He grinned down at her as he drew near. "Well, you look cozy. Must be feeling warmer already."

Leia blinked, then propped herself up on bent elbows and gave him a short nod. "I'm...quite warm now, thank you," she managed, silently congratulating herself on how relaxed and natural she sounded, though she could feel that her cheeks must be flaming again. Having agreed to this arrangement, she was loath to let Han see how nervous it made her. Casually, she patted the mattress beside her with one hand, indicating the empty space she'd created. "You can squeeze in here, if you don't mind a tight fit."

Instantly mortified by her own turn of phrase, she braced herself for the inevitable bawdy rejoinder. Indeed, Han opened his mouth as if to reply, and the lively light of amusement in his eyes said that he was tempted—but then he checked himself and seemed to think better of it. Dropping his gaze, he gave a little shrug.

"Look, Sweetheart, it's late and I don't want to put you out any more than I already have. I'll make up a pallet down here," he said, gesturing to the span of floor in front of the bunk. "Just promise not to step on me when you get up in the morning." Without waiting for her response, he dropped his pillow on the floor, snapped open one of the thermal blankets and laid it atop the thin carpet, then turned to fetch another.

A quick dismissal sprang to Leia's lips—_don't be ridiculous, you'll freeze to death down there_—but she opted instead to hold her tongue while she pondered the situation. The floor was little more than a few centims of cushioned plastimould set atop an insulated base, all of which rested on a bed of solid ice, and it was _cold. _Even in the few minutes she'd been out of the bunk to answer the door, she'd been conscious of the chill seeping up even through the thick fabric of her socks. Still, Han _was_ dressed in thermal gear and would also be resting atop a layer of padded blankets, so Leia supposed it wouldn't be _too _unbearable for him—and considering the precipitous drop in her ability to resist him lately, it would definitely be a lot more bearable for _her. _

She licked her lips. "If you're sure…."

"It'll be fine," Han assured her. "I brought lots of blankets." Then he angled a glance at her and added with a smirk, "And remember, Corellians run hotter than most other humanoids."

_You're telling me, _Leia thought wryly, although for form's sake she rolled her eyes at his exaggerated vanity.

She caught the clean scent of his skin as he sank to a crouch at the bunkside, and as he began layering a palette of textiles on the floor, she tried to will herself not to stare. But it was no use. Her eyes were locked on him, raking in the subtle play of lean muscle beneath his form-fitting thermals as he moved, her mind and body recalling the exquisite firmness of those arms as they'd held her close, contrasting so perfectly with the sublime softness of his lips. She felt another hot flush rising under her skin all over, and berated herself for a fool.

"There, that'll do," Han said as he flipped back the edge of the topmost blanket. Turning, he braced one hand on the edge of the bunk and lowered himself to the pallet before pulling the coverlet up the length of his long legs and over his torso. He sank down onto one elbow facing Leia and gave her a tired smile. "Thanks a lot for this, Princess. If you hadn't let me in, I probably would've spent the night on a mess hall bench."

Leia shifted onto her side and propped her head up on one hand. "Oh, surely not," she admonished lightly. "Even at this hour, you could have asked the quartermaster on duty to find you a berth."

Han grimaced. "Sure, and I probably would've if it was anybody other than Vekker Gaskart."

Leia lifted a quizzical eyebrow. "I was under the impression that Corporal Gaskart liked you quite a bit."

"Yeah, _liked_. Let's just say that I'm not his favourite person anymore."

"What did you do?" Leia laughed.

"Nothing! Not a damn thing," Han declared with typical knee-jerk defensiveness, then gave a short laugh of his own and shook his head. "Ah, it's a long story. I'll tell you later. Right now, I think we'd both better get some sleep."

"Good idea," Leia nodded. "Sweet dreams, Hotshot."

Han released a groan as he stretched out on his back atop the pallet and tucked one bent arm beneath his head. He sighed. "You, too, Sweetheart. Good night."

As he closed his eyes, Leia reached out to the control panel affixed to the wall of her bunk and dimmed the lights, then burrowed down into her sleep sack for the second time that night. Striving to banish all thoughts of how Han looked when he was fresh from the shower and clad in revealing thermal gear, she curled one fist under the topmost edge and drew the fabric up to her chin, waiting for the oblivion of sleep to claim her.

It wasn't long before she realized that something was amiss, though. She was aware from their many missions together that Han had the typical seasoned spacer's ability to fall asleep just about anywhere, snatching restorative naps sometimes in as little as five or ten minutes. As she listened now, though, she realised that he didn't seem to be settling at all. She could hear the telltale sounds of restlessness, the soft grunts and sighs as he shifted around in an effort to find a comfortable position. She lay still and silent for a while, almost holding her breath as she wrestled with herself once again over the course of action she knew was wise—and the one she wanted to take.

When she heard Han sit up and begin to fumble for something in the dark, she reached out and tapped up the lights a notch, then shifted up onto one elbow and squinted at him.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, f-fine," Han returned in a tight voice. "Just gonna need that jacket, is all." Leaning over, he stretched out a long arm to the nearby stool and snagged the garment he'd discarded there. As he straightened back into a sitting position and shoved a trembling arm into one of the sleeves, Leia's common sense took hold, her concern for him eclipsing her own apprehensions.

"Han, _stop._ I can practically hear your teeth chattering. Come on, you can share my bunk."

He continued his movements as if he hadn't heard her, his cold-clumsy fingers awkwardly drawing the jacket on over his thick thermal top. "Nah, don't worry about it. It's no big dea—"

"Don't be ridiculous," Leia interrupted sharply, edging back against the blind side of the bunk, and giving the mattress in front of her a firm pat with the flat of her hand. "Get in here. And bring your blankets."

Her tone brooked no argument, and for once she could see that Han wasn't inclined to put up much of a fight. He cast a wary glance in her direction and then gave her a tilted, hopeful smile.

"You sure?"

_Goddess help me, no, I'm not sure,_ she thought with a touch of despair. _But what else can I do? _

What she could _not_ do, in good conscience, was leave him to freeze for hours on the ice-cold floor—not when there was ample room beside her in the heated bunk. She steeled her nerves.

_I can do this. _

She gave him a nod and then waited, watching as he shed the stiff jacket once more and climbed to his feet, tossed his pillow on the bunk and gathered a couple of blankets from the floor, then climbed in beside her.

There was something unexpectedly erotic about the experience of Han Solo, dressed for bed, sliding in next to her in such a small space. Although his lean physique often made him seem otherwise, he was in fact quite a big man and powerfully built, and Leia was suddenly more intensely aware of that than she'd ever been before. Her skin seemed to tighten and flush all over again, a completely involuntary reaction that left her feeling more than a little flustered. That sensation intensified when the mattress dipped beneath Han's weight and her body tipped in his direction so that she had to brace a quick hand against his chest to avoid falling against him. The instant she touched him and felt the warmth and power there, she knew she had made a grave miscalculation. It was one thing to grab a few hours' sleep next to Han when they were in the middle of a mission—tense and vigilant, and tightly focused on survival. It was quite another to share a cozy bed with him when her guard was down and memories of his intoxicating kisses still lingered on her lips. She snatched her hand back and pressed herself against the bunk wall as far as she could go.

_This is such a bad idea. _

With a muttered apology for jostling her, Han shifted around and sat up to shake out each of the blankets in turn, arranging them across the lower half of the bed before settling on his side facing Leia once more and drawing the layers up and over them both. With care, he tucked the top edge of the fabric over her shoulder and then briefly ran his palm down the length of her blanketed arm in a way that could only be described as a caress. It was a simple gesture, yet so powerfully intimate that it made Leia's skin prickle on a fresh wave of heat. She did her best to appear unaffected, but as Han rested his head on the pillow next to hers and she felt the warmth of his body fully envelop her, she finally grasped the nature and depth of her mistake.

"This okay?" Han asked.

"Fine," she answered, and tugged the edge of the coverlet up to her chin. What she really wanted to do was pull the blanket all the way over her head and hide away for a moment—at least until she got her rampant emotions under control. Closing her eyes tight, she could only hope that, in the dim light, her face gave away nothing about her state of mind.

Although she had resisted dwelling upon it or giving it a name, she had long ago recognized within herself the presence of some strong emotion for Han that was distinct in significant ways from the tender feelings she harboured for Luke and Chewie. In the aftermath of their escape from the Death Star, she had grown close to all three of her rescuers and indeed they had come to represent a kind of surrogate family—a very different sort of family from the one she had lost, but a haven of acceptance, trust and affection nevertheless.

However, her attachment to Han was something else. The power of her physical attraction to him was something she had confronted almost immediately, and grappling with it had proved to be a challenge for which she had not been very well equipped. Over time, she had developed effective coping strategies and on most days she managed to keep a tight grip. No matter how strong the impulse, she believed that acting—or not acting—on such feelings was always a conscious choice, and something that was well within her power to control.

But the warmth the roguish Corellian had kindled in her heart was far more difficult to suppress. Somehow, despite the grim realities of war and their perilous circumstances, Leia found herself nurturing quiet hopes for her own future happiness, entertaining possibilities of personal fulfilment that she had once believed obliterated along with her home world.

"Warming up any?" Han murmured.

Leia's pulse jumped and her eyes flew open. Gods, he was _so close._ Mere centims separated her face from his and, even in the dim light, she could see the tiny flecks of gold in his irises. As those remarkable eyes intently searched her face, she felt her stomach flutter. _Why_ had she permitted this situation to develop? And more importantly, how was she ever going to get to sleep now, with the heat of him seeping into her chilled flesh, and that rumbling voice making every tiny hair on her body try to stand on end? His large frame should have made the bunk seem uncomfortably crowded, but instead his presence made the space feel secure and deliciously intimate—a shelter, in every sense of the word. Her heart twinged in warning.

She cleared her throat. "Yes, thank you. You?"

Han's face crinkled against his pillow. "Gettin' there. It's a damn sight warmer in here than on the floor, for sure. I owe you one, Princess."

Leia gave him a faint smile in return. "I thought you said_ I_ owed _you_," she said lightly. "For all those nights I've crashed on the _Falcon_, remember?"

His gaze softened and, for just an instant, Leia thought he was going to lift a hand to her cheek; some infinitesimal tightening of his muscles told her he was thinking about it. In her peripheral vision she could see his fingers flex and then curl into a fist where his hand rested on his own blanketed thigh. She pressed her lips together, resisting the urge to lean in and encourage his touch. Oh, how she craved the feeling of those rough fingers on her skin again, and sliding sensuously into her hair. Even more powerful than her physical desire, though, was the wish to hear him say her name the way he'd done at the end of that starry night—not _Your Worship,_ or _Princess, _or even _Sweetheart, _but her own name—in a tone so reverent and so filled with naked longing, it made Leia's chest feel tight. The memory alone had the power to send a thrill that was equal parts excitement and trepidation right through her.

She_ knew_ he wanted her—but what_ exactly _did he want?

And there it was again: the yearning of the heart that was far more dangerous to Leia's equanimity than any lust of the flesh. She had found ways to cope with the physical attraction, but managing her deeper desires wasn't quite as simple as exhausting herself in exercise or burying herself in work. Of course, she had tried such methods of distraction. Even before the destruction of Alderaan, she had devoted herself to deposing the cruel and corrupted Emperor and dismantling the hateful regime that kept billions of innocent sentients terrified and enslaved. She craved justice, equality and freedom for the galaxy—and she was determined to get it.

But what she hadn't counted on was how long it would take and how utterly boring the business of war could be. In between the brief moments of sheer terror or dark despair, between the flashes of triumph or relief or soaring joy, there were long, dull stretches of time with nothing much to do but wait and hope. In those interminable hours, Leia found that wishes of a more personal nature stubbornly pushed their way to the top, like winter starblossoms that somehow managed to take root in the rockiest crags to briefly adorn the mountains of Alderaan in veils of blue.

Lost as she was in the maze of her thoughts, Leia tensed in surprise as Han stretched one long arm across her body, his fingers lightly grazing her shoulder once more as he reached for the control panel at her back. Then, with a wink directed at her wide-eyed expression, he dimmed the lights and plunged the room into shadow once more.

"Good night, Sweetheart."

Heedless of the obscuring darkness, Leia gave an acknowledging nod against her pillow, since she couldn't seem to move her lips to reply. The deep timbre of Han's voice affected her as it always had—perhaps even more so because they were so close she could feel the vibration of it in her bones, as well as the tickle of his breath across her cheek as he spoke. But she also thought she'd detected something else in his tone, a new tenderness that intensified the dull ache in her chest.

_You're imagining things,_ she chastised herself sharply. _And sharing your bunk with this man is possibly the worst idea you've ever had._

As Han settled the covers around them once more, soothing warmth began to creep through Leia's cold limbs. The heat emanating from his body, along with the thermal properties of the thick blankets and the residual warmth from the brief convector cycle, combined to create a strong shield against the pervasive chill of the room. Despite the uncertainties that plagued her thoughts, Leia allowed herself to relax a little, welcoming the slow unfurling of her tension.

How easy it would be to throw caution to the wind, she mused. To nestle against that broad chest, slide her fingers through his hair and guide his mouth to hers for more of those exhilarating and addictive kisses she had enjoyed on Bettel IX. It would be so easy to pick up where they'd left off….

_Too easy_, her rational brain interjected,_ and too risky._

If she kissed him again now in her current frame of mind and in their present circumstances, all pretense of self-control would be completely lost—and _then_ where would she be? Vulnerable, certainly. And probably also, in the end, deeply hurt.

Gathering the last tattered threads of self-discipline, she forced herself to turn over, abruptly putting her back to Han and then edging as close to the wall as she could get. She drew in a few cleansing breaths to clear her mind as she willed her body to fully relax and allow sleep to come. Despite her efforts, though, oblivion remained stubbornly at bay. As soon as she closed her eyes, her restless mind began to gnaw at the question once more.

She _knew _that Han had affection for her; that much was apparent, and he had certainly demonstrated concern for her wellbeing on many occasions. But she couldn't help wondering if any of it was meaningful to him. She thought again about those darkling hours atop his ship, and the easy, companionable silences that had existed between them then. Recalling the way he had looked into her eyes that night, the way he had said her name and touched her face, she couldn't accept that what was going on between them was just a casual dalliance, a spacer's fleeting attachment at best. She wanted to believe that it was more than that—that there was more to _him_ than that.

But there was an abiding wariness about the Corellian captain that defeated Leia's persistent efforts to get inside his head. Despite his regular demonstrations of audacity and courage—and even, occasionally, unmitigated valour—she knew that Han was in truth a cautious and canny strategist who habitually played his cards very close to his chest. It was impossible to imagine him ever making an open declaration of the sort that would settle Leia's mind on the matter, and even more impossible to imagine asking him outright, so she would simply have to try to figure it out on her own. Opening her eyes, she gazed blindly through the darkness and listened to the sound of his steady breathing behind her as she tallied up the evidence.

Since the Battle of Yavin, Han had managed to win both the trust of High Command and the respect of the rank and file—even the Rogues seemed to have genuine affection for him. He was widely admired for his skills as a pilot and engineer, and anyone who observed him in action could see that he was a natural leader. He had obviously formed a degree of attachment to Leia—and he was gruffly but unabashedly fond of Luke—and yet he still stubbornly refused to commit himself to the cause they held most dear. While it was true that he no longer callously mentioned leaving to find more lucrative employment, he continued nevertheless to resist joining the Alliance in any official capacity. Despite everything he had seen, all they'd been through together, and the widespread suffering she knew he had witnessed firsthand, he remained wryly and cynically aloof from the fervour at the heart of the rebellion. To Leia's growing grief and frustration, the evidence tallied up to the sad conclusion that Han's independence meant more to him than anything else.

A heavy sigh escaped her as she pondered over that unhappy fact and its implications. As distressing as it was to accept, she knew that if he couldn't see the importance of fighting to free the denizens of countless enslaved worlds from the clutches of the Empire's oppressive grip—if he couldn't fathom the absolute _necessity _of committing to that goal—then they were poles apart, and there was no hope of ever bridging the gap. Their fundamental differences made any sort of enduring relationship inconceivable, and it was foolish of her to imagine otherwise.

Shifting in exasperation at the direction her thoughts had taken, Leia silently cursed her wakeful state and the fatigue and frustration that kept her uncomfortably tense and far from rest. Briefly, she considered getting up to do some work—those acquisition proposals Rieekan had forwarded were still awaiting her input—but she dismissed the notion as soon as it arose. For a start, she didn't relish the idea of leaving her warm cocoon, but also because the last thing she wanted now was to rouse Han from slumber. Her primary aim at this point was to get through the rest of the night without risking any further interaction with him. And then, beginning in the morning, she would firmly enact the resolution she had attempted to make in the wake of Bettel IX: to put a friendly but healthy distance between herself and the Corellian smuggler, and abandon the wishful thinking that threatened to divert attention and energy from her higher purpose.

Counting on a change in position to break her fruitless ruminations, she turned over again, moving gingerly to avoid disturbing her sleeping bunkmate—then stiffened in surprise when she saw that Han wasn't asleep after all.


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3:

In the faint glow emanating from the nearby control panel, Leia could see the gleam of Han's eyes and knew that they were trained on her. She hesitated for a moment longer, feeling her heart thump hard against her ribs and then race to catch its rhythm, as if she'd been caught in some illicit act. At length, remembering that he couldn't read her private thoughts, she continued her turn, conscious that he was paying close attention as she settled herself and finally rested her head on the pillow next to his. Then, almost against her will—and certainly against her better judgement—she lifted her eyes once more and met his weighty gaze.

For a long moment, they lay together in silence, the space between them suddenly heavy with potential—potential for _what_, exactly, Leia would not allow herself to contemplate. She scanned Han's face, trying to catch some glimmer of his thoughts; to her eyes, he looked uncharacteristically pensive, almost wistful.

And _goddess,_ he looked good. His face was half-limned in the soft glow from the overhead array, the pale light glinting off his rumpled hair and highlighting the golden cast of his skin. At such close proximity, Leia could count each of the fine, short lashes that fringed his remarkable eyes. She allowed her gaze to roam over his familiar features: the line of his brow; the prominent, slightly angled nose; the ragged scar that graced his chin—just _there_, beneath the sensuous curve of his lips. She curled her hands into fists.

"Can't sleep?" Han murmured at length, his voice a subterranean rumble.

Leia sighed against her pillow, striving for normalcy. "Apparently not."

"Me neither."

The deep timbre of his voice struck that perfect chord within Leia once more, the one that thrummed low and insistent in her belly, and sparked thoughts that were beyond her present capacity to control. Unbidden, her eyes flicked down to his lips and back up again.

_Just a kiss_, her restless desires whispered. _Just one...what could it hurt? _

_Because it wouldn't be 'just one', and you know it,_ her rational mind replied. _Thirty seconds ago you decided that you were going to distance yourself from him, remember? And kissing him is not a very smart way to do that._

_Yes, okay, fine,_ she argued back, suddenly irritated with her own tenacious insistence on self-preservation. Perhaps in one very important aspect she and Han _were_ too far apart, which meant that a shared future of any significant duration was out of the question. But_ so what? _Han had many times over proved himself to be a decent human being; he was a good friend, and one of the few people she could trust to keep her confidences. Even if there was no possibility of a 'happily ever after' with him, why couldn't she simply take pleasure and comfort wherever she could find it, like everyone else seemed to do? It wasn't her usual habit—and she wasn't entirely convinced that her untried heart could actually handle such an arrangement—but she was beginning to believe the experience might be worth the risk.

Watching his face now, she suspected that Han's thoughts were travelling along similar lines. Although his eyes were veiled in shadow, Leia could see them move exactly as her own had just done—flicking down to light upon her lips and then back up again, dark with desire. There was unmistakable hunger in those depths that easily matched her own, but she detected a certain degree of caution there, too. She took some solace in the fact that he appeared to be wrestling with himself, just as she was, although she fervently wished she could read his thoughts and know the reasons why.

Swept up in an unexpected wave of self-consciousness, she bit her lip and dropped her gaze once more as her imagination, like her pulse, tripped into overdrive. Her wayward mind insisted upon conjuring images that set her blood on fire—of Han cupping her cheek, pulling her close, and lowering his mouth to hers, then trailing his warm lips over her skin. She knew the softness of those lips upon her own now, but she couldn't stop wondering how it would feel to let that tempting mouth explore a little further...gliding along her jaw and nipping playfully at her ear...slowly and sensuously devouring her willing flesh as they finally gave in to the attraction that had sparked between them for so long.

Maybe...just maybe, she mused, the simplest solution to her predicament wasn't to distance herself from Han, but to allow herself to get closer still. Perhaps by giving in to her impulses—and getting Han out of her system, once and for all—she could somehow quench the deeper desires for _something more _that drove her restless thoughts. She supposed it was possible that pure physical release and a small measure of casual intimacy between friends might be all that was needed to silence those alluring whispers for good—or at least long enough to get a few much-needed hours of sleep.

_Yes,_ her determined desires whispered, slowly tilting her body in Han's direction. _That's it. That's the answer. _

Even as she drifted closer to him, helpless to fight the magnetic attraction any longer, she saw a spark of surprise and consternation ignite in Han's eyes. She halted her forward momentum as he abruptly propped himself up on one elbow and then, as he shifted slightly backwards to put a little more space between their bodies, she reeled against a jolt of confusion and dismay.

"Hey, look, Princess, I don't want—I mean, I didn't come here to—".

Leia's stomach dropped, plunging with the weight of sudden deep embarrassment as she took in the startled look on Han's face and realised how profoundly she had misread the situation. She stammered something unintelligible, her dizzy brain churning with a fragmented jumble of thoughts and feelings—confusion, disappointment, _rejection_—all flooding her mind in a single, blinding wave as the urge to bolt overpowered her. She couldn't think; she only knew that she needed to get out of the bed and away from Han _now._

Sitting up, she began to wrestle against the tangle of blankets and the impediment of her sleep sack. She was unfortunately trapped between the Corellian and the blind side of the bunk, but she decided that she would crawl over him if she had to—anything to put some distance between them, and cool the hot flush of mortification that rose to her cheeks.

"Where are you goin—_whoa! _Wait a sec," Han reached out and halted her escape, his free hand easily encircling her upper arm. "Hey, listen—"

"Listen to _what_?" she returned stiffly, shrugging off his light grasp while continuing to tug at the stubborn enclosure of the sleep sack. "I think you made yourself clear."

Frustrated, she gave up on the fastener and resorted to shoving the entangling fabric down the length of her legs until her feet were free, then she shifted around and rose to her knees, looming over Han, who remained partially in recline, mouth hanging open, eyes wide. She glared down at him, fuming at his failure to get out of her way. If he wouldn't do her the courtesy of moving, then she _would _crawl over him, and she would make damn sure to put her knees and elbows in places where he would not enjoy them.

Han gaped up at her, one hand tentatively reaching for her again. "Look, Sweetheart—"

"Don't call me that," Leia snapped, cutting sharply across his faltering words. "Are you going to let me out or not?"

Han's eyes widened even more. "What the hell. Why are you—"

"Fine," Leia growled. Bracing her hands on his chest, she threw one leg over his body, blindly groping with her foot for the floor.

"_Fuck, _Leia. _Stop._" In a rare demonstration of his strength, Han lifted her bodily off of him and deposited her back on the blind side of the bunk, then sat up and shifted around to face her.

Momentarily shocked at being so unceremoniously handled, Leia didn't immediately react, though the fury swiftly rising in her body should have been enough to levitate her off the bed. After all, _he _was the one who had continually pursued this—this _thing _between them! _He_ was the one who had finally made the move on Bettel IX to take it to the next stage. Perhaps she had naively misunderstood something somewhere along the line, but she certainly hadn't imagined _that_. It was becoming apparent to her now that Han had only been playing some kind of game, idly toying with her for his own amusement—and she had foolishly played right into his hands.

Hitching herself upright with her back to the cold plastiform wall, she drew her legs in and had just opened her mouth to give him a caustic piece of her mind, when the faint glow of the panel lights caught his face and she saw the look of sincere confusion and distress in his wide-open eyes. Her heart, fluttering so high and fast in her throat one moment, plummeted like a stone to her stomach in the next, and the bitter invective she'd been poised to spit at him died on the tip of her tongue.

Han visibly groped for words as he searched her face. "Princess, it's not...it's not that I don't want—". He stopped short, and she could see the muscles of his jaw working. He swallowed hard. "Damn it, Leia, you _gotta_ know I— Look, I just don't want you to think that I..that I had this planned all along to...to come here tonight and try to—" He broke off again with a muted curse and then turned and roughly shoved away the remaining blankets that still impeded them both, sending the pile of textiles cascading to the floor. He swung back in her direction, a look of desperate entreaty on his face. "Ah, Leia, _c'mon._"

The genuine anguish in his tone finally cut through Leia's blind panic, dampening the hot rush of reactive fury coursing through her veins and bringing an abrupt halt to all thoughts of escape. Belatedly realising that she may have jumped to the wrong conclusion—and perhaps grossly over-reacted, in any case—she was mortified all over again at her loss of self-control. Inwardly, she berated herself for not sending Han away to find a bed for himself somewhere, _anywhere _else. Then none of this would be happening, and her heart wouldn't be trying to hammer its way out through her chest.

"Sweetheart," Han murmured, dolefully shaking his head. He drew his knees in and then swivelled around to sit cross-legged on the bunk facing her, mirroring Leia's own position. When he reached for her hand, she was too dazed to do anything other than let him take it, though she was further chagrined to see that it trembled slightly in his palm. He closed his fingers around hers and gave a gentle squeeze. "Ah, Sweetheart, I've been thinking," he said, his voice low and soft. "Thinking a lot, about everything, and especially about...the other night."

Leia drew in a sharp breath, uncertainty coiling in the pit of her stomach. So he _had _been mulling over the events of their last evening together, the same as she. He sounded so subdued, though, almost rueful. Did he regret what had happened between them? Had she made a fool of herself after all? She searched his face for answers—though she wasn't sure she could bear to learn the truth, even if it could be found there.

Han made a gruff sound of bemusement and gave another slow shake of his head. His thumb began to stroke across Leia's knuckles in an idle rhythm that was highly distracting, yet strangely soothing to her frazzled nerves. He gave a heavy sigh. "Wish we could do it again soon, Princess, but...I don't think that's gonna happen."

Leia's stomach roiled again and she tensed, poised to withdraw her hand.

"Hoth's climate is not what you'd call conducive to lying out under the midnight sky," he continued, giving her a wry eyebrow and a faint smile.

"N-no…." Leia stammered in reply. She seemed to be having difficulty grasping the import of his words. What exactly was he trying to say? Was this some sort of preliminary to—

"Anyway…," he continued, "there's something I wanted to tell you that night, before we...uh…got distracted. Never got another chance afterwards, with all the chaos of us moving here. So, I guess I'd better tell you now."

The ball of uncertainty that lay tangled in Leia's stomach twisted upon itself, wrenching into a stiff and painful knot.

_I knew it. _

Staring at his shadowed face, she felt cold conviction drop into her gut like a chunk of ice, and found herself struggling to breathe through a throat gone suddenly tight._ So, this was it._ Now that the Alliance cell that paid him was safely settled on Hoth, Han was finally going to make good on his long-standing assertion that he'd be better off somewhere else, and he would soon be heading for open skies. She could hardly blame him. After all, who would choose to stay on such a hostile planet if they had anywhere else to go?

And yet, she _did _blame him.

Sparing an instant to be grateful that she hadn't actually talked herself into sleeping with him, she then fiercely cauterized the wound to her heart and focused instead on the bitter facts: Han had vital skills, experience, and qualities that the Alliance desperately needed to win the war, and abundant reasons of his own to want the Empire defeated, and yet he was prepared to walk away, just like _that._ Her breaths came short and shallow as the band around her chest grew tighter still.

Well, _damn him _and his cynical nature for putting his independence and his selfish objectives ahead of everything else that truly mattered. If that's how he really felt, after everything he'd seen, then he could go straight to hell. She snatched her hand from his light grasp, ignoring the bewildered look that crossed his features, then squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.

"Well. Get on with it, then."

Han's forehead crinkled. "What—"

"Just _say_ it, Han," she snapped. "There's no need to tiptoe around for my sake. I knew this day was coming. You're leaving, right? That's what you want to tell me?"

His face fell, taking on a stricken look. "What?_ No. _Why would you think—."

"Oh, _I _don't know," she interjected, loading her tone with heavy sarcasm. "Maybe because you've made it clear since the day we met that you were only sticking around until something better came along? And I guess practically anywhere else is better than here."

Han's expression grew indignant. "Now wait a minute, that's not fair. I haven't—."

"Not only that," Leia continued unabated. "You seem to take great pleasure in reminding us that what we're doing here amounts to suicide." She waved her hand in a gesture of mock dismissal. "It's all just utter folly and a waste of time, isn't that right?" Folding her arms across her chest, she fixed him with a hot glare.

Judging by the scowl on his face, she fully expected Han to seize the bait, to volley back a disparaging comment that would add credence to her suspicions—and then the way would be wide-open for her to lay into him in earnest. _Oh yes. _She was ready. If he was determined to leave, then he was going to get a piece of her mind to take with him.

But Han didn't react as she anticipated. Instead, he seemed to check himself in mid-thought, brow furrowed, mouth hanging slightly open. His angry look gradually faded, and then he let his shoulders slump and his chin drop down to his chest as he released a heavy sigh. There was a long and weighty pause during which Leia stared at the top of his tousled head, baffled by the sight of his defeated posture and wondering what it meant.

After a moment, he seemed to nod to himself, then lifted his head and slanted a thoughtful look at Leia's face. "Well, yeah. As it happens, I've been thinkin' a lot about _that_, too."

"Oh, I'm sure you have," Leia said with a sour smile. "You've been 'thinking a lot' about what a ship of fools we are, I suppose?"

She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, then pointedly turned her face away from Han and fixed her stony gaze upon the hatch controls she could see glowing distantly over his shoulder. Bitterly, she wished she had ignored that midnight door chime and let him freeze his fine Corellian ass off on a mess hall bench instead. It would serve him right, she fumed, for insisting that he didn't need anyone—and didn't want anyone to need _him_ either. What an insufferably asinine, self-centred, bone-headed woolamander he was, truly, and she was better off—_no,_ she sternly corrected herself, they were_ all _better off—without him.

"Yeah. Well, I think I may have been a little harsh in my assessments, Princess."

Han's quiet words and the note of sincerity in the deep timbre of his voice finally filtered through the cloud of Leia's angry ruminations. She blinked, and then cast him a wary, sidelong glance.

"I mean, I ain't gonna lie," he continued with a wry snort. "There's a part of me that _still_ thinks you're a ship of fools. But I've been on board for a couple of years now, and I see how you work, and what you're capable of. The thing is…. Well, I'm starting to believe..." He swiped a hand over his face and shook his head in a gesture of incredulity, as if he couldn't quite fathom the words that were falling from his own mouth.

Leia raised a questioning eyebrow. "Starting to believe what?" she prompted.

He met her gaze squarely then, his eyes dark with deep conviction. "That you're really gonna do it, Sweetheart. I think you and the rest of these crazy revolutionaries have actually got what it takes to bring the Empire down. And I wanna be there when you do."


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4:

All the air seemed to leave Leia's lungs. She couldn't have been more stunned if he'd zapped her with a laser bolt, and so many thoughts crowded her mind all at once, she struggled to frame any sort of coherent response. She merely gaped at him for a long moment, utterly speechless, and let her arms fall away to her sides.

Seeing her reaction, Han chuckled. "Well, that sure shut you up," he grinned.

Leia's heart suddenly started beating again and then raced to catch up. She felt faint. Giddy. Lightheaded with mingled relief and lingering consternation.

"You—you've decided to_ stay? For good?_"

Han nodded slowly, still smiling. "Yeah. Me and Chewie both. We've been talking about it for a while now, seriously thinking it over. You know we've got our own reasons to want the Imps put out of business, but we never really believed anybody could do it. Not 'til we met you and your friends." He gave a short laugh. "Hell, I guess they're our friends now, too. Anyway, we think we can do some good here in the long run, so we've decided to stick around." He shrugged. "If you're really gonna make this thing happen, Princess, then we want to do our part."

Leia shook her head, still trying to process the news. "You've _been _doing your part, Han," she pointed out, somewhat distractedly. "You and Chewie have been helping us for more than two years. If not for your intervention at Yavin, we would have _lost_ that battle, and everybody knows it. We would all be dead, and the Death Star would still be operational."

Han made a face, but Leia sharpened her focus on him and pressed ahead before he could speak. "And since then, you've kept supply lines open for us, sourced equipment and essential goods we couldn't have accessed on our own. You've arranged meetings with groups we never could have reached. You've transported people—you've _saved_ people, Han. Without you and Chewie, chances are we never would have made it this far at all."

Han dropped his gaze, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. "Yeah, well...maybe we oughta do more."

Leia gave him a heartfelt but rueful smile. "I would _love_ for you to do more—Force knows you've got the skills for command—but this is a military operation, and you know how things work. You're free agents, contractors, and as long as you're working in an unofficial capacity, there's only so much—."

"—only so much we can do, yeah. That's just it, Leia. We're thinking maybe it's time to make it official."

Leia's mouth fell open again on a second wave of surprise. She wanted to knock the heel of her hand against her own skull to check for loose connections. Was she hearing properly? Did _Han Solo _just say—?

His eyes flicked upward to meet her gaze once more, and he flashed a crooked grin. "Although I don't think you're ever gonna get Chewie into a uniform. Or me either, for that matter. But if you'll have us on those terms, then we're gonna stay. Maybe even join up for real."

Leia's shocked bewilderment transformed into a swell of pure elation that made her want to leap to her feet and cheer. She was still sitting against the bunk wall, though, so all she could do was shift up onto her knees and then sit back on her heels, one hand clasped to her chest as the implications of Han's revelation—for the Alliance and for her—settled into the empty spaces in her heart. Dumbfounded, she focused incredulous eyes on his face, feeling as if her whole upended world had been set back to rights in an instant.

"Leia?" Han ventured. He reached for her free hand and gave it a light squeeze. "Sweetheart, you'd better breathe."

Leia gasped. "If we'll _have _you?" Jolted from her daze, she clutched his hand tightly in return. "Han, you have no idea how long—what this means…."

Before her rational brain could interfere with the impulse, she leaned forward, took his face in both hands and kissed him. It should have been a fleeting caress at best, just a spontaneous expression of the unbridled joy that bubbled up within her, but the moment their mouths met the latent fire between them flared hot, like a sun gone supernova. It fused them together in a flash that wiped everything else from Leia's mind except for the luscious sensation of Han's lips on hers and the feel of his skin under her palms. His kiss was everything she remembered and more, and she couldn't seem to tear herself away.

Instead, she leaned into it, revelling in the scent and taste of him, surprised all over again by the way the softness of his lips contrasted so exquisitely with the scrape of his stubbled jaw against her skin. Without breaking contact, she rose to her knees and wound one arm around his neck, craving a deeper connection—and felt Han's whole body tense for an instant in surprise. His hesitation was brief, though. In a heartbeat, before the shock of her own dauntless actions had the chance to wear off, he wrapped strong arms around her and began to return her affections in earnest.

Their lingering caress became a series of breathless kisses, each more impassioned than the last, and then she felt Han's mobile mouth begin to curve into a wide smile. When he chuffed a soft laugh against her parted lips, she finally broke away from him and sat back on her heels once more, dropping her eyes down from his smiling gaze as warmth rushed to her face and she panted to catch her breath.

What _was_ it about this man that made her lose all self-control? It was more than a little maddening.

"Well," Han said warmly, a teasing lilt in his voice, "judging from _that,_ I'd say you're pretty happy with that decision."

Despite the hot prickle of self-consciousness that still coloured her cheeks, Leia chanced a glance back at his face, half-cast in shadow now from the angle of the panel lights, and what she saw there eased her mind. There was no trace of mockery in his amused expression, and no hint of dissuasion either—there was only the spark of her own excitement mirrored back to her from Han's darkly twinkling eyes. As he held her gaze, his smile turned infinitely tender.

"I'm happy 'bout it, too, Sweetheart," he murmured, and reached for her again.

Leia rose to her knees again willingly, pulled like a magnet back into the warm circle of his embrace. She slipped her arms around his neck and tilted her mouth to meet his offered kiss once more, as naturally as if they'd been doing this sort of thing for years.

And_ dear Goddess, _his kisses were divine. His singular focus made her feel like the centre of the universe, as if he were blind to everything but her. It was almost overwhelming to be the object of such intense attention, but it was exhilarating, too, and she gave herself up to the experience completely.

Slowly and sensuously they devoured each other, and Leia was delighted at last to be able to indulge her long-standing desire to run her fingers through his thick hair. She poured her heart and all of her yearning into her kisses, savouring the taste of him in a way she had only been able to fantasize about since that starry Bettelian night. The gentle pressure of warm flesh and the enquiring flicker of his tongue against her parted lips, along with the heat of his hands now roaming slowly up and down her back, combined to make her feel lightheaded with pleasure and flushed all over with desire. She was intoxicated by it and scarcely noticed when they began to lean slowly over together, gradually sinking lower to recline more comfortably upon the bed. Han eased onto his back as they continued to kiss, exerting gentle traction to take Leia with him until he lay stretched out to his full length, with her sprawled half atop his supine body.

This new alignment made every synapse in Leia's brain begin firing at once and she finally broke away on a gasp, shifting up onto one arm to gaze down at Han in wonder as she fought to catch her breath. He was breathing hard, too, and his eyes were alight with a smile that said he was thoroughly enjoying her enthusiastic response to his announcement. As he reached up to smooth away a strand of hair from her brow, Leia scanned his handsome face and bit her lip, feeling a momentary qualm. Not only had they picked up right where they'd left off on Bettel IX, they had rocketed well beyond that point and were now hurtling headlong into uncharted space.

But he was _staying_!

And he was so warm beneath her, his muscles so firm under the soft fabric of his thermal gear, Leia could hardly think of anything else but how perfectly their bodies seemed to fit together, and the sheer pleasure of being so close. More thrilling than any of that, though, was the intent and compelling look in Han's eyes as he slipped his fingers around the nape of her neck and drew her gently down again.

_Just one more_, she told herself as her eyes fluttered closed and she parted her lips to his seeking tongue, welcoming the silken stroke of it that suffused her with a new and riotous wave of heat. The touch of his hands compounded the effect as they skimmed down over her back from shoulder to hip and back again, his fingers trailing warmth in their wake and leaving every nerve alight. It felt so good to be caressed with such tenderness and passion. Emboldened, Leia ran her free hand up his torso to rest against his chest, fascinated by the feeling of the firm muscles there and the brisk _thud _of his heart against her open palm.

The tempo of her own heartbeat had intensified, too. Pressed tightly against his body in this new position, it was impossible to ignore how their proximity and the fervour of their escalating kisses was affecting him. When his lips left hers and began traversing the line of her jaw to the sensitive skin behind her ear, deliciously fulfilling the fantasy that she had been entertaining in idle moments since Bettel IX, Leia heard herself emit a low moan of pleasure. The involuntary noise made her eyes fly open and for an instant she was intensely self-conscious—she had never uttered such a sound in her life. But her response seemed only to heighten Han's ardour, and he answered with a heavy groan of affirmation against her ear, a subterranean vibration that made Leia's skin prickle all over. With nothing between them but thin layers of snug thermal fabric, his body's powerful response was electrifying. She could sense the quickening of his heart, the erratic pattern of his breath, the rising heat that radiated from his body—at once intoxicating and utterly addictive, and she felt herself melting into the heat of his frank adoration.

And it _was_ adoration, of that she had little doubt. She felt the truth of it in every cell of her body, though she tried to quell the hopeful thought as soon as it arose. As reassuring as his tender ministrations felt, she didn't wish to be a fool; she couldn't allow naiveté or wishes of the heart to delude her. Still, she didn't think she was mistaken about the sweet undercurrent of devotion, which was strikingly tangible in the reverent touch of his slowly roaming hands, and in the way he nuzzled and softly kissed his way down her neck. It _wasn't_ just wishful thinking; his caresses seemed to communicate a deeper desire, something far more meaningful than simple lust.

And when he shifted his head and moved his attention to the other side of her neck, the fleeting eye contact they exchanged was another affirmation—a glimpse into a mirror that reflected the deepest parts of herself and shone a light on their mutual secret yearning. The understanding that Leia gathered in that passing glance was so vivid and real, it amplified her desire tenfold. The urge to get even closer was overwhelming, and she finally allowed instinct to override all reason, pressing her hips to him and moving in a way that felt primal, urgent, and utterly necessary.

Han jolted beneath her as if touched by a live wire, and Leia froze. Words of apology began to form on her lips, only to be stolen away on a gasp of surprise as he heaved up and then rolled her abruptly onto her back, reversing their positions in one swift and dizzying motion.

For a long, shocked moment, Leia couldn't seem to draw a breath. Her eyes shot to Han's face, and she could see in a heartbeat that he was as stunned as she was by the sudden change, as though he had no idea how they'd ended up this way, panting heavily and locked together in such an intimate embrace. His wide-eyed and wary expression said that his action had been driven by raw impulse, just as hers before it had been, and now he simply gaped at her in apparent alarm and consternation.

Half-formed thoughts swirled through Leia's brain as she stared up at him, but she couldn't seem to focus enough to gather them into a coherent stream, distracted as she was by the novel feeling of his warm weight upon her, pressing her into the mattress. The fit of his hips between her thighs was perfection, and the firm, broad ridge of his arousal pressed against the soft crux of her body was utterly divine_—_nothing had ever felt so right. Still in thrall to overpowering desire, she adjusted herself instinctively beneath him, parting her knees a little wider to accommodate his frame.

Han drew back slightly in order to see her better and his expression once again grew heated as he flicked his eyes down from hers and raked them over her body. Leia could feel the warmth of his searing gaze as it traversed her length, from her thermal-clad chest, heaving with the effort of breathing, to where their hips were now so intimately aligned. His smouldering glance ignited a fresh flare of desire within her unlike anything she'd ever felt before, and her core muscles tightened convulsively in response. She finally managed to draw a full breath, and then she felt him shift against her again, his hardness creating a friction through the thin fabric barrier that threatened to unhinge her rational mind completely.

_Oh, stars, it would be so easy. __We could go there tonight__—_right now_, __if we want._

The spike of adrenaline that struck Leia in the wake of those thoughts finally pierced the hazy bubble that enveloped her awareness, and all at once she became starkly aware of just how far the force of their mutual desire had propelled them. As she drew another sharp breath, her muffled hearing seemed to return with a _pop_ to full volume and her ears filled with myriad ambient sounds: the droning whir of the central heating fans, the faint _thunk _of cold plasteel expanding in the wake of an influx of warmish air, no longer muted and faraway—and above it all the sounds of heavy breathing as she and Han panted in tandem.

The sudden return of full perception was disconcerting, but even more so because it was accompanied by the sound of Leia's own distant inner voice, faint and fading, but still too insistent to ignore.

_What the hell are we doing!? _

Han went stock-still above her, as if he'd had the same thought. She met his eyes again and saw the silent question behind his desire, a query not spoken in words but which nevertheless begged a reply.

And suddenly Leia was not so sure of her answer.

Confusion overtook her then, a surge of physical responses and tangled emotions racing through her in an overwhelming blur of heightened awareness. She _wanted _this with Han—she could hardly pretend otherwise, under the circumstances—but neither could she ignore the desperate gasps of her saner self trying to swim back to the surface. As exciting as it was to be so close to him, and as good as it felt to know for sure that his desire matched her own, it was all too much, too fast.

The instant that lucid thought breached her consciousness, she felt the intensity of Han's ardour begin to subside and knew that he had experienced the same abrupt snap back to reality. Gazing up at him, she glimpsed unguarded thoughts racing swiftly across his features—remorse, apology, and a tinge of self-reproach. His heated expression had faded entirely, leaving behind it a look of rueful chagrin.

Before she could compose her own thoughts enough to speak, Han pushed away and righted himself, then shifted around to swing his legs over the edge of the bunk. Leia lay for a moment in stunned silence, panting hard and feeling strangely bereft at the sudden loss of his welcome warmth and weight, before propping herself up on her elbows to stare at his back. Silhouetted as he was against the glow of the panel lights, she could just make out the outline of his large frame as he hunched over and braced his forearms on his knees. She heard him mutter a quiet oath under his breath as he dropped his head into his hands, fingers curling tightly into his rumpled hair. She had the distinct impression that he was fiercely chastising himself, and felt a small pang of dismay.

Her own body was still thrumming hard and flooded with heat, but she was nevertheless grateful for the respite from sensation. Her desire for Han was a deep, steady ache that begged for relief—but the speed of events had left her mind in a whirl. She needed to think clearly, and she now understood how utterly impossible it was to do that, as long as he had his hands and lips in contact with her skin. Shifting upright to sit cross-legged on the bunk, she hesitated for a moment longer, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she gazed at his back and tried to think of what to say. The moment passed in heavy silence, and then he slanted a backward glance over his shoulder.

There was something about the way he looked at her then, with his dishevelled hair sticking up in all directions and a faintly worried expression wrinkling his forehead, that provoked in Leia an unexpected and overwhelming desire to laugh. She fought the urge with a faint sense of alarm, not wishing him to mistake her mirth for mockery, but the supercharged energy that had built up inside her needed some kind of release. Thinking about how swiftly they'd gone from friendly banter at the chamber door to breathlessly making out in her bunk, she felt a giddy laugh begin to rise within her, which she found almost impossible to quell.

As Han shifted around on the bunk to face her once more, she pressed one hand against her lips, trying hard to stifle the impulse. She gazed wide-eyed at his perplexed expression and silently willed him to give her a moment to regain her composure, but his mouth fell comically open when he got a look at her flushed face, and his eyebrows climbed right up to his hairline. Summoning all of her powers of self-control, Leia finally dropped her hand, drew a deep breath, and said in a perfectly neutral conversational tone, "Stars, is it just me, or is it really hot in here?"

For a heartbeat, Han simply gaped at her in silent astonishment, and then his tense bewilderment dissolved into a sharp exhalation and a hearty guffaw. His face creased in a grin that spoke of pure relief, and soon they were both laughing quietly together and shaking their heads in mutual amusement. It was clear to Leia that the interlude had taken Han as much by surprise as it had her. Sure, they had been moving steadily in that direction for a while now, but their sudden and precipitous plunge into unbridled passion had been an unanticipated and intense experience nevertheless. She drew a deep breath and released it in a rush, glad that the feeling between them had tipped in the direction of good humour and warmth, instead of into a mood that could have been altogether more awkward.

After a moment, though, Han's low chuckle faded away, and his expression grew more serious. His lingering gaze on Leia's face gradually hardened a little, as if he were firming up some inner resolve. There was a sense of strained purpose about him that Leia could read in the tightening of his posture, the way he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin.

"Listen, Leia, I'm—I'm sorry," he said at length, his voice low and rough, but weighted with sincerity.

Leia felt some tiny speck of residual tension melt away at his forthright apology. She had never seen him look like this before: self-conscious, uncertain, and more vulnerable than she had ever imagined he could be, and it touched her deeply.

He swallowed visibly, his expression still solemn. "I swear, I did _not _come here to—"

"I know," Leia interjected quietly, loading her voice with reassurance. Reaching out, she briefly covered his clenched hand with her own. "I know you better than that, Han. And don't be sorry about it. I'm not."

Some of the tautness left him then, and his posture grew a little more relaxed. Half of his face crinkled up in a wry smile. "So you're not gonna call the MPs to haul me outta here? That's good."

Leia gave a short, dry laugh. "We went through combat training together, remember? If I wanted you out of here, I wouldn't need the MPs to help me." She smiled faintly at his exhalation of relief. "It's just—."

She paused for a moment, finding herself swerving dangerously close to revealing the deeper feelings that lurked in her heart, at risk of speaking sentiments she hadn't fully admitted even to herself, let alone to anyone else. She pressed her lips together to keep the words where they sat, poised on the tip of her tongue, while she drew a steadying breath through her nose.

"It's just that, since you're _staying_," she managed at length, emphasizing the final word and not bothering to hide her smile at hearing it spoken aloud. "I think perhaps we could…we could…."

She faltered again, wondering how one ought to speak of relationships that had yet to be established, much less defined. By uttering the words aloud, was she making it real, or risking too much? Before she could decide how to articulate her jumbled thoughts and emotions, Han took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"We could slow things down a little?" he supplied.

Leia gave him a grateful smile and squeezed his hand in return. "Yes. That's what I mean."

The unabashedly happy grin that lit up his face made Leia's heart soar, providing further affirmation that his feelings for her ran deeper than mere physical desire. Holding his gaze, she couldn't stem the sudden rush of joy and relief that flooded through her, and her own smile widened in return.

"Sounds good," Han agreed softly.

He wanted to kiss her again; she could see it in the way his eyes roamed her face. But he swallowed hard and visibly suppressed the urge, instead reaching out to gently tuck a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. Looking oddly pensive, he swept his thumb around the sensitive upper curve of her ear, as if he were committing the delicate shape to memory.

Leia shivered with pleasure at the contact. She wanted to kiss him again, too, only she was not as inclined as he was to show restraint. Leaning into his touch, she tilted her face to his in invitation. He hesitated for just a microsecond—long enough for her to understand that he doubted that either one of them would be content with a mere kiss—before cupping her head in his hand, closing the distance, and warmly capturing her lips with his own.

The heat between them had barely abated; it simmered and sparked beneath the surface as their lips softly caught and clung together. They parted slightly for a breath, and she felt the teasing sweep of his tongue before he claimed her mouth again. She had the distinct sense that he was barely restraining himself, and it was all she could do not to moan in response. His hand drifted downward as they kissed, coming to rest for a moment upon her shoulder and lightly caressing the curve of it, before sliding down the length of her upper arm. His fingers curled warmly around her triceps, as if he longed to pull her closer still. There was so much promise in those slow and sensuous kisses that Leia grew lightheaded and breathless once more. Leaning forward from her cross-legged position on the bunk, she felt her whole body gravitating toward him again, intoxicated by myriad sublime sensations. It would be so easy to rise up, wind her arms around his neck, and give in. It would be so easy...and so good.

The voice of her wiser self hissed again, reminding her of their mutual decision to slow things down. Clutching on to her slender resolve, she found the strength at last to break contact and pull away before she lost control of her senses completely. She sat back, licked her lips and then delicately cleared her throat, striving for a calm demeanour as she met Han's gaze once more.

"Yes, it would be nice if we could just...spend some time together."

Taking his cue from her attempt at cool composure, Han sat back a little, too, then drew his feet up to sit cross-legged on the foot of the bunk, hands comfortably at rest in his lap. "I'm game for that, Princess," he said. "Not sure we'll get the same chances here like we had on Bettel IX, though."

Leia skewed her lips to one side, thinking. "Yes, I suppose it's too cold here to lounge around on top of the ship, watching the night sky," she said dryly.

"Definitely, but I know someplace that isn't," he said. "I'm flying you to the meetings on Ord Mantell next month, right?"

Leia blinked. Rieekan had tasked her with making a trip to the distant space station to engage in diplomatic negotiations with potential allies there. She planned to depart as soon as possible after they were safely settled on Hoth, once they had figured out the gaps in their inventory and supply. Now that she knew for sure that Han was sticking around, it was almost a foregone conclusion that he would be the one to serve as pilot and personal security on that operation—he would hardly countenance any other arrangement these days, and Leia was not inclined to argue about it. In fact, she had gradually developed the habit of automatically assigning him to her missions unless he was already otherwise engaged, taking for granted that he would accept the commission. They had a solid history of working exceptionally well together and, in truth, there was no one among her Alliance colleagues that she trusted more. She hadn't yet had the opportunity to think that far ahead, but what Han was suggesting made her flush with anticipation and pleasure.

Before she could respond, he continued. "Yeah, if we're looking for some time alone, we could do a lot worse than Mantell. It'll be low risk as far as missions go. Lots of down time, with not much to do between meetings, and it's a lively place—if you know where to look." He gave her a smug smile. "See, I know all the fun and interesting spots most off-worlders have never even heard of."

"Wait, are you suggesting a _date, _Flyboy?" she teased lightly. "Dinner and dancing? Or a midnight stroll?"

"Maybe," Han returned, jutting his jaw at her. "Or maybe we could just do a little more...y'know, _stargazing_." He flashed her a wink.

Despite everything that had just happened between them, Leia felt herself flush. Her own hopes aligned perfectly with Han's suggestion, but she was nevertheless taken aback to hear him openly confess such a desire._ Time alone _and so-called_ stargazing _together? She bit her lip and dropped her eyes down as the import of those words sank home. Time alone with Han, far from nosy Rogues and curious Wookiees. Time to explore the possibilities that existed between them.

"Princess?"

She lifted her gaze to his once more, watched as he raised an eyebrow in query.

"Yes," she replied, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Yes, that sounds like an excellent plan. The next few weeks are going to be crazy while we're settling in. It would be good for us both to get away from here once the essential tasks are done. And good to get out of this wretched cold, too," she said.

In the absence of Han's warmth, and with the bedcovers scattered in disarray on the floor, she was beginning to feel the chill once more. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried and failed to suppress a shiver.

"Ah, you're freezin' again," Han observed ruefully, then cocked one eyebrow at her in a playful leer. "I'd offer to warm you up, Princess, but that wouldn't be 'taking it slow', would it?"

Leia bit her lip against a smile, shaking her head at his incorrigibility. "No, it wouldn't."

"I mean, you might decide to use those combat moves on me after all."

She laughed. "I might."

"All right, I'll keep my hot body to myself," Han grinned, and gave an affable one-shouldered shrug. With the promise of new developments between them on the horizon, he seemed content to revert to their usual routine of mildly provocative banter. And in many respects, he was as pragmatic as Leia about such things, saying, "It's late, anyway, and if we're going to be any good in the morning, we'd better try to get some sleep."

As reluctant as she was to bring the intimate interlude to an end, Leia wasn't about to argue with him. Dawn was only a few hours away, and with it would come a host of obligations. She knew that Han had an early morning mission briefing, and the _Falcon's _environmental systems to deal with, as well. And as always, her own schedule for the coming day was packed tight—planning sessions, equipment inspections and inventory requests, not to mention those overdue acquisition proposals. She would need to be alert and as rested as possible to face everything she had to accomplish.

She nodded with a sigh. "I suppose we should."

Han reached across and squeezed her hand, then loosened his grip and moved as if to slide off the bunk. Leia held fast, though, and then fixed him with a befuddled look. "What...where are you—."

"Gonna make up that pallet again, Princess. I'm thinkin' it's probably best if I sleep on the floor after all."

Leia arched one eyebrow. "Don't you trust yourself, Captain?"

"I trust myself just fine," he replied. "It's _you_ I'm worried about...gorgeous guy like me and all. How could you resist..."

Han's tone was light and flirtatious, but for a fraction of a second Leia felt a twinge of self-consciousness at his teasing words. Buoyant with joy at his announcement, she had all but launched herself at him, and now that her ardour had cooled a little, the memory of her own unrestrained enthusiasm made her cringe inwardly with mild embarrassment. But she wouldn't let it happen again—she had a more solid grip on herself now, and she felt confident that she could make good on her assertions.

"I think I can control myself, if you can," she said dryly. "And there's no need for you to freeze to death on the floor. Stay."

Han angled a look back in her direction. "You sure?"

She gave him a nod of firm conviction as she patted the empty space beside her, then covered her mouth to stifle a yawn. "I'll manage to resist you _somehow_, I promise," she said sleepily.

He flashed her a cocky smile. "I'll grab the blankets."

Leia lay back on her side of the mattress as Han reached for the bedding that had tumbled to the chamber floor and began arranging it on the foot of the bunk. She watched in silence, feeling the weight of fatigue pressing down upon her as he drew the blankets up around them both and then stretched out on his side facing her. As he settled in place and rested his head on the pillow beside hers, their eyes met and they exchanged a slightly awkward look, once again faced with the same set of circumstances that had led to the evening's dramatic events.

In the aftermath of their heated encounter, they seemed to have tacitly agreed that a certain physical distance must be kept—and yet, somehow, complete separation after what had transpired seemed almost ludicrous. Han was clearly holding himself back in an effort to maintain a careful distance, but his desire to reach out for her was near palpable, seeming as powerful to Leia as her own desire to touch him. She found herself edging a little nearer, basking in the heat that emanated from him, and inhaling the clean scent of his skin. He shifted forward, too, until she could feel the warm rush of his breath across her cheek and the graze of his knees against hers as he closed what little space remained between them. Gazing into each other's eyes at such close proximity, a moment of quiet understanding passed between them.

Leia reached out and placed a tentative hand on his shoulder, fingertips trailing lightly down his upper arm before coming to rest on his broad biceps. Covering her hand with one of his own, Han enfolded it and then drew it down between them, tucking it close to his heart. Then he angled his head just enough to brush a soft kiss across her forehead, before finally subsiding with a tired sigh.

Leia's cozy sleep sack still lay abandoned at her feet, but she saw no need to retrieve it. Sleep would come easily enough now; curled up with Han, feeling the steady and reassuring thump of his heart under her hand, she felt safe, content and warm all over. Everything seemed possible again; a once-bleak future seemed wide open, and hopes and dreams that had withered completely began to flower once more.

She watched, holding Han's sleepy gaze until her own eyes grew heavy, and she finally allowed them to flutter closed. His face mere centims from hers, her breath mingled with his: slow and sure, deepening with every inhalation, taking her down with him into the warm oblivion of sleep. Leia sighed as she drifted off at last, dreaming of a future filled with bright promise.

The End.

**A/N:** Special thanks to JennyCBS for beta reading and nudging this along to completion. Mwah!


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